


choosing teeth over diamonds (again, again)

by sybilius



Series: Space Palemates [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Aromantic Isabel Lovelace, Asexual Character, Asexual Isabel Lovelace, Current trauma lbr, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Five Times, Gen, Hugs, I have fulfilled the Hug Agenda, In the background if you squint, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sad Ending, Sleeping Together, Sorry I promise I'll fix it later, Survival, Touch-Starved, like in the literal sense, nice things, past trauma, space aesthetic, who is just bad at feelings for other reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilius/pseuds/sybilius
Summary: There were so many things to set off paranoia, in deep space on a half-rotted station next to an unstable blue star. When there was no one coming for them. When there was someone coming for them.It made a small difference to Minkowski and Lovelace when there was someonethere.*Five times Lovelace and Minkowski hugged, and one time they couldn't.





	1. Day 1 - 15

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place immediately after the end of season 2, stretching to the end of the 100some days when they are found by SI-5. Call it a series of canon outtakes, where my girls get the hugs they desperately need (and...nothing else they need, sadly). It's also canon with my other minlace fic, but not really necessary to read that one strictly speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the first section is cheating and they don't TECHNICALLY hug. Give them some time lol

**1\. What it takes to wake up to [Day 1]**

_ Bip. Bip. Bip.  _

The heart monitor was as gentle as it had been in the wake of the bomb hours before. 

_ Bip. Bip. Bip.  _

Renée Minkowski let a breath out, a shudder wracking her body. The light from the small window in the lab cast an unnaturally cool glow over the sterile metal. Underneath the monitor she could hear shallow breaths from the patient.

Captain Isabel Lovelace, clawing back her vitals after hours of surgery. Brought back from the dead by her own damn blood that Hilbert had stored a week earlier. She'd like that, Minkowski thought half-bitterly. 

There was blood stuck to the bald half of Lovelace’s scalp. Against her better judgement, Minkowski prised it off, watching the flakes break off into space. Like the blood they were still finding in pieces in the Comms room. 

Doug Eiffel's blood. 

They still hadn’t made contact with Eiffel, still had no conceivable options for doing so. They’d think of something. Lovelace would think of something.

Even then, Minkowski knew she was kidding herself with that one. Still. She’d give anything to grit her teeth against Lovelace’s pig-headed orders now. 

She tugged a magnetized chair over to Lovelace’s bedside to settle in for the night. Hilbert had already retired for his quarters, claiming there was nothing more he could do for her. Minkowski hoped he wasn't lying. Hoped that what he did for Eiffel was evidence enough that he wouldn't let her die. 

She knew she should sleep. But what if Eiffel managed to get a call through? (Hera would take it. Probably). Or what if Lovelace's vitals dropped before Hilbert could reach her? (Unlikely, he said. And besides, what could she do that he couldn't?). 

She dropped her hand to Lovelace's wrist, feeling the thrum of her pulse there. Steady. She swallowed hard, lowering her head to the medical bed. She wondered fleetingly if her head would float upwards if she fell asleep. The weight in her chest made it seem impossible-- but she closed her eyes. Counted the heartbeats of one person, at least, in her crew who was still living. 

When she woke she hadn’t started free-floating. Someone’s hand was on her, gently keeping her grounded there. Fingers brushing the hair starting to fall down her neck. She blinked her eyes open, instinctively shaking the hair out of her eyes. 

“You need a trim too, huh,” Lovelace smiled weakly from the bed. Minkowski gripped her hand so hard it flickered across her face. 

“Easy, Minkowski.”

Right, she reminded herself, get a grip. Lose the grip. People here are still alive, and they need you to be  _ present. _

“How are you feeling?” 

“Oh you know, like hell,” Lovelace shifted slightly in her restraints, but didn’t let go of Minkowski’s hand, “I’m alive.”

“Thank god. Thank god. Thank you,” she whispered to no one in particular. She cleared her throat, pulling her hand away. She may have just woken up, but with Lovelace healing for at least another few weeks -- she really was the only captain again. 

“The star?” Lovelace moved as if to sit up but her face twisted, a gasp escaping her. That was a lot of shrapnel. A lot that could have ended up in Minkowski.

“Blue. Bigger. We're in a stable orbit now, though god knows about the radiation,” she offered a flask of water to Lovelace, who sipped it gratefully. 

“Wow. Shouldn't be surprised by now at what can happen out here. Or what we can survive. Still.” 

“Yeah.” Minkowski didn't want to think about the cost. 

“S’good. Eiffel getting some sleep? And Selb--” Lovelace stopped short, catching the way Minkowski’s face fell at Eiffel’s name. God. She shouldn’t have let it show, should have given Lovelace at least one night of damn rest.

“Minkowski. Did something happen to Eiffel?”

She was too damn perceptive to hide anything from.

“Eiffel used the ship to blow us back into a safe orbit-- but it got free. He was free-floating when,” and she swallowed hard before continuing, but it was too late not to tell her now, “When your heart stopped. Hilbert brought you back, but your-- the bomb went off. ”

She had to stop again, compose herself. Her hand instinctively moved to the chain around her neck, layered beneath her uniform. Breathe. She can’t look at Lovelace, can’t bring herself to see what it’s doing to her. 

“Eiffel’s alive. But he and whatever is left of the ship are in deep space now. Hera and I tried-- are trying everything we can to get him back.”

“Christ,” Lovelace’s hand was clenched in a fist. At the time, Minkowski was certain it was guilt. 

“I’m sorry.”

In the days to come, in bad moments, she would wonder which loss really meant more to Captain Lovelace.  

* * *

 

**2\. Just one more time, this time different [Day 6]**

Minkowski wasn’t surprised that Lovelace took bedrest poorly. But on the other hand ‘poorly’ was a ridiculous understatement. It had within the week gotten to the point where she had to send Hilbert out of the lab to repair the station or he else he might decide that sedation was ‘essential to recovery procedure’. 

And then it was up to Minkowksi to keep company with their trigger-happy quasi-captain when she was as far from her guns as it was possible to get. 

“You sure you don’t want to play cards?” Minkowski ventured a second time, passing the deck between her hands. 

“I told you, you don’t need to babysit me. You come call me when you need me to do something on the station. When I  _ can _ do that,” Lovelace didn’t even spare her a glare this time, leaning against the wall and still strapped to the bed. She touched the bandages, as if to make sure they were still dry. Then her mouth set into a hard line and she resumed her staring contest with the wall. 

Minkowski gritted her teeth, trying to think of the right way to be friendly, “Isolation isn’t generally considered good for your health. Though I can't say for sure about brooding.”

“You think I’m...brooding-?” Lovelace did spare her an arched eyebrow then. 

“Like an antihero gearing up for her second act solo. Not that I'd complain about a bit of music,” she said conversationally, trying to keep it bright. It sounded stupid-- no, “God, I'm starting to sound like--”

Her voice stopped short. Minkowski didn't want to say his name. Not when she'd made no progress whatsoever getting him back. 

Not when that was well past seeming impossible. 

“Eiffel told me he kinda hates musicals anyways,” Lovelace deadpanned. Minkowski wasn't sure if she was trying to be funny or flippant, but she can't find it in her to laugh anyways. 

“Yeah. He would,”  _ he did _ , a nasty part of her brain wants to say, but it's only been a week. With the supplies on that craft it was unlikely Eiffel was dead.  _ Yet. _

She bit her lip and let her eyes wander around the lab. It was one of the few places on the station without a window. No visual reminders of the big blue...whatever it was. Star, if she had to call it that. Just cool fluorescent light. Lovelace ran her fingers through the hair on the right side of her head, letting out a gasp of pain when she shifted. 

“Do you need anything?” Minkowski said seriously. When she met Lovelace's eyes, there was a strange mix of guilt and relief there. 

“Yeah, um. Can you get me one of those pills he keeps in the purple jar in the cabinet?” 

“Sure,” it was the first thing Lovelace had asked her for all week. She recognized the label as a military-grade painkiller that had been mentioned years back in her training. She brought it with a flask of water, floating back to Lovelace quickly as she could. 

“Thanks,” Lovelace took the pill dry, jerking her head back, though she took the water as well when Minkowski offered. She sipped it consideringly while Minkowski strapped herself in to the chair, “I know you're not a nurse, and I’m not a great patient.”

“Least I could do. You're part of my crew,” she paused, “You saved my life. Eiffel's too.” 

“Borrowed time,” she tilted her head backwards, closing her eyes, “that's all we ever get on this damn hellhole. That's why we need to--” 

“Don't start now. Please,” Minkowski was barely ready to accept that Eiffel was gone. Never mind any baggage Lovelace had about the loss of her ship. Lovelace pursed her lips quiet, for once. It was a little unsettling. Minkowski fiddled with the deck of cards in the silence, a question still nagging at her. It was a bad idea to ask it. 

“What did Hera say to you that made you come back?” she asked it quietly, almost thoughtfully, but from the way Lovelace’s face twists, Minkowski damn well  _ should _ have let it alone. 

“So that's what you think this is about,” Lovelace stated, slow and dangerous. She mumbled something which sounded almost like  _ it's what I deserve, isn't it. _

“What do you mean?” Minkowski lowered her voice, too little, too late. 

“You think I  _ wanted _ to leave without you? That I’d rather be in deep space cryo, on my way to give those bastards what they deserve--” 

“I never said that--”

“And why  _ don't _ you think that?” her voice was flat, like Minkowski was a fool for thinking otherwise. Minkowski knew better. And yet---

“I don’t know,” Minkowski spit through gritted teeth, then thought one better, “Why do you love to make yourself the villain so damn much?” 

Lovelace screwed her eyes shut and winced. When her eyes opened they were wild and desperate, “That's what Hera said. I'm doing it again, worse, I'm doing all of it again and I can't stop it.” 

“What do you mean?” Minkowski had never quite heard that in her voice before. It scared her a little. 

“When's it going to  _ stop _ , anyways? When we get off this ship? No. When no one else goes up like us. How do we stop them or anyone  _ else _ from ever letting this happen again when it's. Happening. Again, in every damn way it was before?” 

Lovelace’s voice climbed in pitch. She lurched forward and winced, then struggled with the restraints on the bed, “This isn't doing a damn thing either--”

“Lovelace!” Minkowski didn't think. She just lunged towards her, grabbing her in a tight hug. Stop her doing -- whatever reckless harm she was going to do. 

Surprisingly, it seemed to work. Lovelace froze-- then started breathing again, hard. Her heart was going like a trapped animal, but she didn't pull away. Minkowski held still, praying she hadn't overstepped some kind of boundary. Lovelace didn't move.

The deck of cards she dropped floated towards the edge of the lab, a few cards pulling loose one by one. 

“Am I hurting you?” Minkowski half-whispered after a moment. Head shake. Slowly, Minkowski rubbed Lovelace's back, tucking her chin on Lovelace's shoulder. It was an old, strange muscle memory from another life-- she'd been in  _ Les Miserables  _ once, just in the chorus. The director had everyone hug in pairs as part of rehearsal warm-ups. Sounded weird, but Minkowski had forgotten how nice it was. 

“Hera said… she said I was feeling sorry for myself and she was right. I shouldn't be--” 

Minkowski held tight against Lovelace's half-hearted twitch to move away, “Hey. You're stuck in bed rest for at least another week with the shrapnel. I know there's not a lot to feel good about.” 

“Do you?”

It was Lovelace's sharp side, the villain’s edge in her voice. Daring Minkowski to disagree. 

“I guess not.” 

Lovelace relaxed, almost defeated, into the embrace. Her heart rate slowed down to a gentle pace as Minkowski continued to rub circles in her back. Eventually, Lovelace's hand came up to her neck, fiddling slightly with the growth of hair there. Movement seemed to be more okay. Hilbert’s painkillers were probably strong stuff. 

“You're gonna do this tomorrow too, right?” Lovelace mumbled.

“What, fail to play cards?” Minkowski teased, eyeing the four of clubs, the ace of diamonds spinning back towards them. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for jokes, but -- it was nice not to have to be Captain for a moment. Just a friend. 

“You know. Send him off to do gruntwork while you babysit me.”

“Probably, yeah,” if she admitted it, it was nice to have the break when Lovelace wasn’t glaring a hole into her head. She absently stroked the fuzz starting to grow on Lovelace’s scalp. 

“Want me to cut your hair?”

Minkowski smiled, the edge of it pressing into Lovelace’s shirt.

“I’d like that, yeah.” 

 

* * *

**3\. Your secrets aren't fireproof [Day 15]**

Two weeks was all it took before the next disaster.

No, calling it a disaster was giving it too little credit, because every other 'disaster’ there was at least a possibility of survival, however slim. No matter how smart Hilbert was, how tough and daring Lovelace was-- there was no way out. Hera knew it, and every time Minkowski pictured those gaping cracks, she knew it as well. 

She composed herself, floating slowly just down from the bridge to the lab. The Hephaestus was so quiet when it wasn't polluted by sirens and minor electrical explosions. Even the plant monster seemed to be battening down its hatches. Minkowski wondered if it knew just how screwed they were. 

“Commander--”

“Hera. You have your orders on the matter,” it wouldn't help anything to tell. Lovelace had been through enough. She counted to ten, just waiting beside the lab door. Hera at least knew enough not to open it just yet. She nodded once. 

Lovelace was out of bed, working on physical therapy. Gentle leg movements while floating, one wrist strapped to the bed to prevent spinning. 

“Minkowski,” the ghost of a smile playing on her lips faltered, “Is everything okay?”

Shit, Minkowski thought, do better, “Oh yeah, just exhausted. I hope Hilbert can do something about the engine cooling.” 

“Another system in the red?” the annoyance crept into her voice. But she relented, “I guess we did take a hell of a hit from the star.”

“We’ll handle it,” Minkowski said mechanically, “You're feeling better?” 

“More than that. I want to -- stop being useless. Soon,” Lovelace schooled her features deliberately, “I want to start building a new ship.” 

Of course. 

“The sooner we get something built, the sooner we can get to a real solution. Get back  _ home _ . Maybe we can track the old ship down--” 

“Lovelace -- I know that ship meant a lot to you, but without someone who has spent their life studying rocket science--”

“It's possible. We've done it before with fewer resources than we have now. We have the designs.”

“We can't. I can't-- not without,” the name  _ Eiffel _ sprang to her lips. She bit her tongue, “Not when we're so undermanned. We need to work with what we have.” 

She felt brittle, cracks along her own facade against the weight of what she was carrying. Lovelace studied her, but Minkowski didn’t bend. Not on this. She didn’t need to know. 

“Look, I get it. I was a shit captain -- and a worse crew member -- right up until just before we lost my ship,” her voice barely skipped at the end of the sentence. Goddamn it, she was holding it together better than Minkowski was. 

“But I want a chance for all of us to have...a chance again. We can do it, I know it--”

“I  _ really _ can’t talk about this right now,” Minkowski cut her off, now almost desperate to leave the conversation, afraid that the next thing to come out is going to be exactly what shreds Lovelace’s hopes with well-placed shrapnel. But she isn’t going to stop going after this, when has she ever before --”

“Hey,” Lovelace grabbed her hand before she could turn away. Minkowski blinked. Slowly, and with a stiffness Minkowski had never seen before in her, she folded her arms around Minkowski’s shoulders. Oh. Lovelace was hugging her. Trying to.

She wasn’t very good at it, which made Minkowski half-laugh as tears sprang to her eyes in spite of herself.

“Something going on?” 

“I'm tired. Of all of this -- again,” that wasn't a lie, at least. She let her arms encircle Lovelace, relaxed by inches into the omission. She could feel Lovelace's bitter smirk against her cheek.

“How do you think I feel?” 

“Yeah,” Minkowski patted her back once, went to pull away, but Lovelace gripped her tighter-- too tight. 

“No I-- I didn't mean that. Look, I know it's not easy to keep this death trap together. I know that,” she loosened her grip when Minkowski shifted her hands, tentatively squeezing. It was nice. Lovelace was a lot taller than she was. But of course, in low gravity -- that hardly made a difference.

Minkowski wanted to tell her.  _ So _ badly, if just to have someone to share that burden with. 

She pulled away, squeezing Lovelace's shoulder as a tentative thanks. 

“I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself. I am in charge.” 

Lovelace smiled in that too-fragile way that if nothing else, made Minkowski more sure of her decision. She floated over to her bedside, shaking out a pill from the purple jar, “I’d agree with you but that would be way too pot, kettle…”

“Sorry, what?” 

“You know, pot, kettle, black?” she swallowed the pill dry, the smile fading from her face, “Never mind. It's okay, Minkowski. It's going to be okay.”

Minkowski knew it wasn't. Lovelace probably knew that too. 


	2. Day 100-114

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's a canonical date to when SI-5 picked them up, people should let me know. I arbitrarily picked 2 weeks but couldn't find the exact references in the scripts.

**4\. hold tight to the end of the world [Day 100]**

Minkowski's hands were shaking so badly you could almost hear it in her knock. She straightened her back, trying to get ahold of herself -- but what the hell would the point of that be? It was done. 

The devils were coming for them, or else they’d die here in hell. 

God, now she was starting to sound like  _ Lovelace. _

Lovelace at least went to the door, didn’t open it remotely. She stared, tough and cool as she’d been in the Comms room an hour ago. Like it didn’t scare her one bit. 

“What, you didn't want to serve orders from the intercom?”

“I made the call.” 

“Okay,” Lovelace's eyes took on that glass-like glitter they had when she smiled. She didn't smile.

Minkowski didn't move, not knowing how to, or what she wanted coming here. It was probably two months since she and Lovelace had a civil conversation that didn’t go beyond stilted orders. 

Her eyes flickered down to Lovelace’s stomach, where the scars were hiding beneath her uniform. It was horrible to think it, but sometimes Minkowski missed when Lovelace was trussed up in the lab. She was more human, then. Easier to get to. 

“Did you...want something?”

Case in point.

“Never mind,” Minkowski turned before Lovelace could see her crack.

“Hey--” 

“What?” Minkowski’s voice didn't waver. 

“Are you...okay, Minkowski?” 

It was a stupid, honest question. Minkowski blinked, staring at the warning lights perpetually flashing against the metal of the hallways. 

“I'm fine.” Her voice skipped. 

“You're not.” 

“Lovelace--” 

Lovelace grabbed her hand, pulled her into a clumsy hug in the doorway. Just like she had almost 100 days ago, when it seemed like they might be making progress. Minkowski breathed out, the shudder going through her entire body. 

Okay. Okay, she thought, don't break. 

It was a little late for that. But someone's arms were holding her together, was that what she came for? She studied the way the light pooled on the ground, the shadow they cast holding each other. 

Don’t break. 

Lovelace patted her back slowly, “Listen. I’m...  _ really _ shit at comforting people.”

“I know. I know,” Minkowski shook with the effort, turning her head so that she could swallow her tears. 

“Hey,” Lovelace mumbled, half-offended. Minkowski laughed weakly. 

“You make up for it by being funny. Sometimes.”

“Thanks,” Lovelace tucked her head next to Minkowski's ear, “You’re good enough at comforting for the both of us.” 

“I wish I could believe that,” Minkowski laughed again, this time more desperate. Lovelace squeezed her tighter, a sharp sigh escaping her.

“Listen. I'm sorry. I… Haven't been myself lately. I know it's been….hard. On you.” 

“No, I'm sorry,” God, it felt good to come out and say that. She squeezed a little harder. Even if they were floating, the big blue star watching from the cabin window-- she felt a little more grounded. 

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Lovelace asked gently. 

“You needed a friend, and I was keeping secrets,” really, when Minkowski thought about it -- the real reason she lost Lovelace was that she stopped coming by the lab as often. Pretending it was because of the ship’s breakdowns-- rather than the creeping rot of the reality they were faced with. 

“I would have done the same. 'Sides, I figure we both need this right now. Before command comes to try to blow us to hell,” Lovelace muttered it darkly. It was almost surprising, that she'd accepted their odds were so bad that she'd admit to needing... someone. 

“Not too late yet.”

“Barely.” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Minkowski hadn't stopped shaking. Probably wouldn't for the rest of the night, but damnit. They both needed sleep. Even if command responded to the relay, even  _ if  _ a rescue was coming -- 

God, even that seemed far too hopeful. 

“I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight,” Minkowski whispered, not wanting to pull away. Not wanting to float through the emptiness back to her cabin to  _ wait _ . 

“Stay here,” Lovelace’s voice skipped, as if realizing what she was offering, “If you want.” 

Minkowski blinked, lifting her head to look around the spartan quarters. Less familiar than hers. There’s something comforting in that. Her eyes skipped on the sleeping rack. 

“We both need rest--” 

“Yeah, we can jury-rig a spare sleeping bag together. Hui showed me how,” Lovelace pulled away from the hug, looking her in the eye, “Come on. Sleepover at the end of the world. We can play Truth or Dare if you want.” 

“That is something Eiffel would say,” Minkowski said absently, glancing back to the rack. You could fit another body there. She'd just never thought about it. 

“Okay. Okay.” 

It wasn't as easy as it sounded, of course. There was a fair amount of swearing at zippers before there was even enough blanket to accommodate two people. Minkowski only spared a half a thought to whether she would sleep in her underclothes as usual when Lovelace stripped down to her sports bra and light boxers. So that was that question answered. Minkowski was too keyed up to feel self conscious anyways. 

And if she was honest, eager to return to the balm of being held. Yeah, it didn't make a difference to whether they'd be damned or dead tomorrow. But it felt different. That was something. 

Lovelace floated into the sleeping bag, reaching down to strap her feet in at the base, then hesitating.

“You mind being on top?” she glanced upward and then cracked up, “Oh. Um. That sounded --”

Minkowski laughed too, “Yeah, that's fine by me.” 

She floated over to the sleep rack, bracing herself on Lovelace's left shoulder. It  _ was _ intimate, when she glanced up to Lovelace's considering brown eyes. Now wasn't really the time for having confusing  _ I’m married _ thoughts, she decided. God knew if she'd ever live to feel guilty about this. She leaned down to fumble with the zipper, mostly securing them both inside the sleeping bags.

“Sorry, sorry,” she almost clobbered Lovelace's chin standing back up. She settled her arms around Lovelace's back, allowing Lovelace to wrap her arms around so that she'd more or less stay in place. 

“At least it's warmer than it was this afternoon,” Lovelace quipped drily, fumbling for the switch. The room went dark. 

“Should have done this before,” Minkowski snuggled into the soft muscle of Lovelace's shoulder. 

“What, with Selberg?  _ Right _ .” 

“ _ No, _ ” Minkowski said with almost comedic vehemence, and they both laughed. Lovelace brought her hand up around Minkowski's neck, stroking her neat-cropped hair gently. 

“When I was in college, my friend used to let me crash on his couch when I was having a bad time,”

“You were in college?”

“Yeah. Degree in physics,” she let out a bitter chuckle, “God that was so long ago.”

“As if I needed more reasons to be impressed by you,” Minkowski shook her head. 

“Don't be. I was terrible at it. Barely scraped by with 60s. I'm not-- I wasn't good at the math.” 

“Still,” Minkowski mumbled sleepily, “S’hard and you did it.”

“Yeah. Back then, I thought if I could survive that, I could get through anything,” Lovelace stifled a yawn, nestling her head next to Minkowski's in the dark, “What a stupid thing to be right about.”

It was stupid, in an awful, ironic way. Survive  _ anything. _ At least though, in that moment, Minkowski believed it was true. 

“Night, Lovelace.” 

“Goodnight, Minkowski.” 

* * *

 

**5\. the shape of your roots [Day 108]**

No one came the day after. Or the day after that, or the day after… 

Beep. Beep. “Pressurization system is not responding. Commander, if you could just give me a minute--” 

Beep. Beep. “Oxygen recycling system not responsive. Running on auxiliary. Commander, we need to replace valve to pressurization--” 

Beep. Beep. “Minkowski, can you-- what the hell is going on  _ now _ ?” 

None of it stopped. 

She stayed in Lovelace's room every night, stuck in the horrible limbo between life and death. Sometimes it helped. Other times they both were keeping vigil all night. Sometimes Lovelace would get up to work out, while Minkowski stretched and went over  _ Pryce and Carter  _ in her mind.

Sometimes Lovelace had nightmares. Often. 

Tonight was one of those nights, and Minkowski was up thinking herself into places darker than deep space when it started. A gentle moan beside her neck. She squeezed Lovelace's waist carefully. Sometimes that helped. 

“Don't -- S-sam!” Lovelace twitched violently. Okay, time to wake her up before getting an elbow to the ribs, Minkowski thought. She slipped a hand up to Lovelace's hair, shaking her head gently. 

“Lovelace. Wake up. Wake up.” 

“No!” Lovelace gasped, her eyes shocking open. 

“It's okay. It's okay.” Minkowski settled her hand on the jackrabbit pulse of Lovelace's neck

“Shit.  _ Shit, _ ” Lovelace just breathed for a while after that. Minkowski let her. What else could she do? 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Since when did,” Lovelace sucked in a hard breath, “Sleepover at the end of the world become therapy at the end of the world?” 

“When the end of the world started taking over a week.”

Lovelace let out a short, sharp laugh. She tilted her head so that her forehead was touching Minkowski's, her soft nose in profile, “I was dreaming about my crew. About when Lambert-- when Sam died.”

“Sam he was -- close to you?” 

“About as much as you are. Well, not as literally but. Maybe when he got sick from Selberg’s -- “ she cut herself off, “Maybe this isn't a good idea. I don't need more reminders of the fact that we should throw that sad excuse for a human being out an airlock.” 

“We need him.” 

“I  _ know _ , Minkowski,” she raised her voice, and then lowered her head, “I know.” 

Minkowski didn't say anything at first, just nudged her head in the crook of Lovelace's neck. It had almost become a ritual with them. Minkowski wondered if Hilbert noticed she hadn't been spending any time in her cabin. He probably had. She couldn't bring herself to care. 

But her thoughts did loop back, like the ring chained around her neck. She let out a short sigh, almost like a whimper. Lovelace breathed out, squeezing her abdomen gently. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“No I -- I was up thinking. Couldn't sleep.”

“Ah,” Lovelace stroked the edges of her hair, “Care to, um. Share with the class?”

Minkowski bit her lip, “I...I was thinking about my husband. How I’ll probably never see him again.”

If she hadn’t been keyed up all to hell, she probably wouldn’t have caught the slight skip in the rhythm of Lovelace’s fingers. Or the way her face went more blank, unreadable than the animated vulnerability she’d grown used to in the evening half-light.

Damnit. Why did she think Lovelace knew? Because she always knew, seemed impossible to blindside.

“I...that’s… I’m sorry, Minkowski. I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to...say anything,” she burrowed closer to Lovelace, not wanting to hear the distance in her voice. It was a bad idea, she thought, bringing up what they’d left behind on Earth, now. They were never going to get back there-- 

“What’s he like?”

“He’s -- he’s a journalist. Foreign correspondent,” she stuttered, for lack of any specifics that came to mind. 

“And? What’s he  _ like _ , Minkowski?” Lovelace’s hair brushed Minkowski’s cheek. She considered this. Normally she didn’t want to share anything about her life-- her  _ other _ life, with her crew members. 

“Taller than me but -- average height. Maybe the same height as you. He likes old movies, watercolor paintings. When I met him he was painting outside in Paris, little sketches of the cafes. He asked if he could sketch my profile.”

“You met him in Paris. How-- perfectly romantic. That’s wonderful,” Lovelace’s voice formed the word ‘wonderful’ perfectly. It skipped around in Minkowski’s mind, a memory.

God, she missed Domenik  _ so much. _

“He never missed a chance to say ‘we’ll always have Paris’,” she smiled sadly to herself, “Eiffel would have liked that.” 

“He would have,” Lovelace squeezed the back of her neck. Almost like Domenik would have done but -- it was different. Domenik wasn’t up here. Not for all of this. And Minkowski was thankful for that, no matter how her chest ached. 

“You have anyone on Earth you think about?”

“Parents, I guess. My little brothers, too. Don't see them much. Most of the people I cared about... I met on the mission.”

“I...I’m sorry,” Minkowski squeezed her tightly, the ache in her chest now blossoming with another feeling, rooted and certain as a spring sapling. 

“Yeah I...I want to go back. Make everyone who put us on this floating lab experiment  _ pay. _ More than anything. But after that I…” her voice faltered, almost broke. 

“It’s okay. We’ll have each other. No matter how we get through this, I promise.”

Lovelace didn't say anything, just squeezed Minkowski back a little too hard, like she often did. It was bracing. 

“Sleep?” 

“Yeah,” Minkowski replied distantly, even though she felt like so many things had gone unsaid. “Let's sleep.”

She closed her eyes, still turning it over. She really hadn't thought about life after-- this. What kind of life could she have? What kind of life could  _Lovelace_ have? It was just...too much. She tightened her grip on Lovelace's waist, listening to her even breaths. 

She didn't want to die. She didn't want Lovelace to die. 

That was more than enough to be sure about.

* * *

 

**6\. promises and always (known) [Day 114]**

Lovelace doubted that Minkowski even thought about following her back to her quarters after their meeting. 

Automatic response. Muscle memory after 14 days-- deal with today's breakdowns, glare daggers at Selberg, choke down rations, walk together to the cabin. 

Hold each other. Play pretend. 

Lovelace knew it was too good to last. 

She stopped short at her cabin door. How to  _ say it _ . 

“So. Seeing as the end of the world has been delayed…”

“Yeah I...I don't know how to deal with them. We’ll handle it,” Minkowski shook her head. She was exhausted. 

Lovelace wished she could believe this would help her sleep. Rather than the opposite, “Not exactly what I meant.”

She cringed at herself, more so at Minkowski's tired blink, “What...?”

“Minkowski, we...we can't keep doing this,” god,she sounded like someone's  _ other woman _ , “Now that SI-5 are watching… if they knew, they'd use it.”

“Use it?” Minkowski's confusion is fucking heartbreaking. Don't stop. 

“Split us up over loyalty. Force us into choosing. You heard what the doctor said,” Lovelace swallowed hard, “We have to expect the worst.” 

“Oh. Um,” Minkowski cleared her throat, the composure slipping in her pretty blue eyes, “You’re right. Of course. Play it safe.”

“Yeah,” Lovelace wanted to hug her so badly it fucking _ hurt _ . Just put her arms around her, even if it was the last time, squeeze her tight and run her fingers through the dirty blonde hair Lovelace cut herself not a week ago. 

She stayed where she was. 

“I’ll just. I’ll go to my cabin,” Minkowski turned away, same as she did the first time she’d shown up shaky and desperate at Lovelace's cabin.

Only this time, what the hell was there to do about that?

“Minkowski?” 

“Yeah?” she didn’t turn around.

“Look, I’ll. I’ll keep that promise too.”

Minkowski’s breath in sounded like sandpaper over a burn scar.

“Good.”

Her voice didn’t waver. Lovelace forced herself to close the cabin door. Don’t look back. Put things back to the way they were. Don’t let them see, through Hera’s eyes or anyone else's. 

She busied herself setting her sleeping rack right, the blue fabric and the soft smell of Minkowski’s shampoo a hard thing to remember. It was always an empty promise, wasn’t it? Even if they got off the ship, Minkowski had people to go back to. A person. 

Lovelace swore as she caught her fingers on the sleeping bag’s zipper. She hoped Minkowski didn’t think it was because of her husband. No-- there was no way she could have thought that. 

Besides, it was only half true. 

All of it was stupid, fucking wishful thinking in the middle of disaster. Even if Minkowski did have a single feeling for her beyond friendship, Lovelace had long since known she couldn’t  _ do _ relationships the way most people could. She'd made peace with that. 

She thought she had. 

The other sleeping bag floated free. Lovelace shoved it into the storage compartment, strapped herself in to get a few hours. 

It was so much colder without her. 

It hurt. It fucking hurt, even after all she'd been through. This still hurt. That this was the closest Lovelace had  _ ever _ come to the kind of relationship she wanted. Here in the cavernous maw of space, next to an astrophysically fucked star where every other person was someone she wanted to put a bullet in. And here she was, begging for scraps from a married woman.

An amazing woman. 

“Hera?”

A beat of silence.

“Yes, Captain Lovelace?” the glitch in her voice even sounded careful. She knew. Probably. Which meant SI-5 would know eventually.

“Can you get the temperature up a few degrees in the sleeping rack?”

“No problem.” 

For the first time in a long time-- that went off without a hitch, at least. Lovelace hugged her arms around herself. Get used to the absence. Come on. 

It's what you've always known. 

She shivered, and closed her eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, sorry the ending is so sad. Lovelace isn't so good about....accepting caring about people, or staying not-isolated. I have strong plans to fix this post-canon but...I need to finish canon first. 
> 
> For whatever that's worth, I do headcanon Minkowski as bi and grey-polyamorous, though she's sort of shoved that to the side for very legitimate reasons in this story. Suffice it to say, they need each other, and they'll get to deal with that more directly in my followup story. But also, Minkowski loves her husband very very much. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, and I would love, love, love any comments or thoughts that you have.


End file.
